Along Sourdough Trail

I’m still learning as I go what the nature of this project is and what the most fitting form of this record might be. Although the blog format seems generally appropriate, it is not my purpose to use the medium in the typical social ways, i.e. to generate discussion or build a following. The main purpose of the blog is to serve as a vehicle and repository of my own thinking and development. (I hasten to add that I’m always delighted to receive comments from anyone moved to write one. They further, rather than distract from, the sort of self-examination taking place here.)

So ignoring proverbs about changing vehicles in midstream, I’m altering the presentation to make this look less like a conventional blog, and more like journal pages strung together. Reducing distraction, I’ve cut the header to a short title and moved the sidebar navigation mostly out of sight at the bottom of the page (also reachable by a click from the upper right corner). If this makes it less likely that a visitor remains on site, so be it. A reader unwilling to slow down for a few images, and a few paragraphs, is most likely one who would not have gained much from it anyway. As for you, if you’re still reading at this point: I hope you’ll find something of interest in the continuing journey.

P.S. One fault of the new design is that lines of text may become uncomfortably long in old browsers used with wide screens. If that applies to you, just narrow your window (or increase font size). Please let me know of any other problems you come across.

The weather has changed since last week, and snow (at this elevation) is hard to imagine today. I used to think the solstice was rather late to define the start of summer. This year, here, it seems about right.

In the serendipitous way of things, recent readings have rekindled a long-standing flirtation with Japanese aesthetics. Naturally, I’m interested in applying some of the new and old concepts in my photography. It’s mostly a matter of paying attention to things I haven’t necessarily been thinking about. I am hoping that the Sourdough Trail project can provide a good testing ground for trying out such ideas. There is a body of prior work that may be reviewed and analyzed, and which also serves as a sort of baseline for comparison with new, experimental efforts.

But how does artistic experimentation fit into my mission of exploring place as well as picture-making?

How one looks and what one sees reflect personal concerns. If Sourdough Creek were running past my home or watering stock on my ranch, I’d certainly view it differently. I would know different things about it, and would relate differently to the things I know now. Similarly, if I view it from a different aesthetic perspective, I will learn about and care about it in different ways. I’m sure that my aesthetic exploration will extend and deepen, not dilute, my appreciation of this place.

I wonder whether I’m truly engaging a new approach, or simply rediscovering what’s been there all along. Most likely the end result will be only a natural, incremental step in the evolution of what I do. But it feels like a perceptual shift, and it’s fun to pretend that it will revolutionize everything.

What does the revolution look like? A key aspect at first is flipping terms to see not so much trees and leaves as the spaces between. I want to learn to develop this negative space in my compositions. There are many questions. What can be expressed with emptiness? How does it depend on scale? Does the space between leaves work like the space between trees? I’ll be seeing what I can find out.